Bygone
by AProcrastinatingWriter
Summary: After a mission gone horribly wrong, Yang and Blake die on the field of battle. Not that that would stop Yang from trying to find her again in the next life. Trigger warnings: Death, suicide. (A gift for grinningmoonlight on tumblr; check her out. She's a pretty swell gal.)


Yang Xiao Long had always promised herself she would never die as a cliché.

The heavy smell of blood and smoke told her otherwise.

She was lying in a pool of her own blood, breath burning and ragged as the hole in her lung. Her vision was tunneling, and the only light at the end seemed to be the fire spreading throughout the building. The floor was cold metal – shouldn't it have been hot? - and even it was warm compared to the numbness seeping in at her toes. She was trying so hard to think but the thoughts didn't seem to be coming; her brain felt like it had frozen up.

And she was dying.

It was every nightmare she'd had since she was six, rolled into one.

"Yang," came a pained breath next to her.

Yang turned her head, and every moment was agony beyond comprehension. But she bit down the scream, coughed through the urge to vomit, grit her teeth. "Hey, kitten," she finally smiled, dragging out the nickname she swore to only use when she and Blake were alone. "What a way to go, huh?"

Blake's hair was a mess, was the first thing that hit her. Wasn't that strange? She was dying, and the first thing she thought to focus on was Blake's hair. Her pretty, pretty hair. "Don't say that," Blake whispered, clutching at Yang's hand – she wished she could feel it better than she seemed able to. "We're gonna make it out of this, alright?"

Yang fought against her fluttering eyes. "Heh. And I thought I was the optimist."

Blake sobbed, but cut herself off halfway through it. "I'm sorry," she whispered still, tears leaking out of her eyes. "I didn't – I didn't mean for any of this to-"

"You're not hurt," Yang realized aloud, slow and soft. Everything was sort of . . . bubbly, now. "You're all messy, and there's blood, but . . ." The realization hit her like a bullet. She would know. "You're sad for me."

Blake was shaking now, biting her lip. "Don't go."

No. No, Blake couldn't be sad. No, that was all wrong. Blake was the best thing that had ever happened to Yang and she'd been hurt so very much – the White Fang and bullies and humans and even by her own friends. Yang couldn't stand to see it happen any more. She had to fix this. "It's alright." She tried to laugh, but it came out as more of a jerking cough and some coppery taste in the mouth. "It's fine. There are plenty of other fish in the sea . . . you can get someone besides me, right?"

Blake stared at her, open-mouthed. Shocked? Well, good. That was . . . not sad. Not . . . that was better. "What do you mean by that?"

". . . oh." It really was starting to get . . . difficult . . . to think. "That's right. That was a faunus joke, wasn't it?" She coughed, again, tried to cover it up with a smile. "Sorry, kitten. I didn't even think . . ."

"No, no, Yang," Blake looked sad again, and Yang cursed herself. If only she could think faster, be _smarter _then maybe she could fix this. "Are – are you saying -" she swallowed down another sob, "Are you trying to say you think that we're dating?"

Yang was confused for a second – a small eternity – far longer than she had time for. She was almost blind now, couldn't make out Blake's beautiful face. "Duh," she sad at last, carving another smile into the flesh of her face. "I never told you, did I? Told you that I thought we could make a really cute couple . . ."

No, no, Blake wasn't supposed to cry like that. That was supposed to make her happy. Yang _wanted_ her to be happy. Forever. "Yang," she must have croaked, but it still sounded like a whisper to Yang's failing ears. "Yang, we still can be, just please, _stay with me_!"

"Sun wouldn't like it," Yang said in a voice that she hoped sounded playfully chastising. "Sorry."

"I don't care about that!" she was screaming now, even Yang could tell. It was so cold. Yang had almost forgotten what that really felt like, being cold.

Pulling a little red wagon down a forest path. Not knowing the destination, or which way to turn to next. Just knowing you couldn't give up no matter what.

Cold.

So cold, for so long. Watching her dad spiral further and further into depression. Feeling her friends and family become alienated by her search. Watching herself burn everything she grasped at to the ground. Every kind word she spoke that hid a desire to touch, to feel, to connect. Burning, burning, burning, always giving off heat, never taking it in.

Meeting Blake.

Warmth.

_Warmth_, she thought, and her brain snapped back into the fullness of being, hearing and vision suddenly restored – which might have been nice if the sensation hadn't been accompanied by a coughing fit that left her in even more pain than she'd started in.

"Yang," Blake screamed the word like it was her salvation, clutching her hand ever tighter. A tear fell on Yang's hand – hot, hot even in this burning warehouse. "Don't go. I'll do _anything_."

Yang opened one tentative eye, and became acutely aware that if she closed it again, if she _blinked_, she wouldn't be coming back out. "Blake," she whispered, hoarse. "You can be happy without me. I promise. Just . . ." She could remember now, remember why she was here, remember why Blake had to leave _immediately_. "You need to go, _now_."

"I'm not leaving you," Blake's voice cracked, and dust, she was beautiful. Everything Yang wanted, and everything she'd never have.

Yang knew she should urge her to do so anyway, knew it was selfish beyond reason to keep her here, knew Blake had to leave because she had a full life ahead of her, but oh. She was so warm. "Blake, I . . ." she choked on the next word, and for once her death throes had nothing to do with it. "I love . . ."

"So sorry to interrupt this little precious little moment," came a new and entirely unpleasant voice – well, not _totally_ new. "But I've got a city to destroy, and you kids are loose ends that need to be . . ." There was a swish and a clasp and the bending of fabric. "Knotted, so to speak."

Roman. Roman Torchwick. Yang grit her teeth once more, and grabbed on to her anger. It had gotten her though a million different situations before. Maybe now she could bring about just one more miracle, a swan song, something even more cliché than bleeding out on the floor – anything, anything at all just to keep Blake safe.

Blake hissed – hissed, for goodness' sake, she always tried so hard to suppress everything that made her a faunus – and sprang to her feet. "You _son of a_ -"

There was a gunshot.

Yang watched Blake crumple, fall backwards, head and arms twisting unnaturally as they hit the ground, and her world went cold again.

"Shot through the heart," Roman waxed lyrically after a few moments, walking over to where Yang lay. "And you're to blame."

Yang didn't respond, staring straight ahead, both eyes open.

"What?" he asked, laughing more for effect, it sounded like, than any actual glee. "No anger? No clever quip, no crying? No . . . assurance that you're gonna kick my ass from here to other side of Remnant?" His voice dropped to a whisper. "No last request?"

Yang still lay there.

"Hmm. Pity," he said, something final. Yang felt something press into her temple. Probably his cane. "I was sort of looking forward to it, actually."

Yang _was_ probably crying – but she couldn't tell. It didn't seem to matter, really, not with Blake lying there like that. Cold.

She had never really considered herself religious, and she didn't think that was about to change even now. Not really. But she'd also never been one to give up, either. Something inside of her, some last dying spark, grasped onto the thought with all her strength that maybe they were about to be someplace they could meet each other again. Someplace warm, to belabor a point – not that there was much else to do besides that.

No. Not maybe. Definitely.

_I'll find you again. I promise._

Everything went black.

* * *

><p>On July 27th, 2016, a child was born in the city of Melbourne, Australia – though her parents were American, visiting family from overseas. Despite the earliness of the birth – a whole month ahead of schedule- the child was given a clean bill of health – perfectly sound, perfectly lovely. She had brown eyes flecked with gold and the barest wisps of hair on top of her keening head, and her parents could already tell she was going to be a strong, wise girl. Just by looking at her.<p>

They named her "Cassandra", and they promised her that she would grow up to be a happy, healthy, beautiful young woman, and they wouldn't ever let the world harm her. This seemed to quiet the child, and she fell into a peaceful sleep.

She grew up quickly. All children do.

* * *

><p>When she was eight years old, Cassandra ran into a group of bullies.<p>

They called her mean names and pushed her down to the ground and kicked dirt in her face and said to her that if she told anybody about it they'd do worse to her.

They did the very same thing the very next day.

The third day they switched it up – poured juice on her pretty new dress and teased her about the color of her skin, not fully understanding what it was they were doing. Cassandra had been strong the past two days, but today her heart broke, and she began to cry.

When the bullies laughed at her for crying she went to hide under the slide on the playground, and cried even harder. She told herself it was her fault for being small and weak, and that this wouldn't have happened if she'd been able to stand up for herself. And she cried some more, all the way past the time the kids were supposed to come in from recess.

Then, she heard a soft thump in the woodchips next to her, and realized she wasn't alone anymore. She hurried to wipe the tears from her face. "I wasn't crying!" she shouted to the kid sitting next to her.

"Hi!" the boy bellowed right back, grinning a grin with one less tooth than the average – it matched the rest of his scuffed-up face. "My name's Ryu! I'm nine years old, and I like Power Rangers! What's your name?"

Cassandra waited for a moment, not certain of exactly what to say. "I'm Cassandra" she finally said, quiet now that the anger and fright were fading away. "I'm eight, and I like Power Rangers too."

"Nice to meet you, Cassandra." Ryu's grin went a little lopsided, and he scratched the back of his head – as if his blond hair needed any more mussing up. "I beat up those bullies you had. Told 'em not to bother you anymore."

Cassandra stared at him for several moments, caught somewhere between admiration and disbelief. "You . . . you did?"

Ryu actually blushed, which seemed so unlike him – and what was weirder was that she could tell that even though she'd only known Ryu for less than a minute. "Yeah, I did. Sorry to jump in like that, but . . ." His cheeks puffed up. "Seeing you get picked on like that made me really mad."

No one had ever done anything like that for her. "Thank you," she said, soft as it was.

"Nah, don't mention it," the boy rocked back and forth where he sat, cross-legged.

"Is, um . . ." Cassandra's parents always said that she should do nice things for people who did nice things for her. "Is there something you want me to do for you?"

"I said don't mention it!" Ryu pouted, sounding truly childish for the first time this whole conversation.

"Sorry!" Cassandra yelped in return.

Ryu thought for a few moments. "I guess there is one thing you can do for me if you wanna pay me back."

Cassandra brightened a little. "What is it?" she asked, curious.

She thought his grin couldn't get any bigger – she was wrong. "D'you wanna be my friend?"

* * *

><p>"I really don't know what you see in all this anime stuff," a nearly-twice old Ryu said to Cassandra, craning his head to look at the underside of the model robot.<p>

"I just like the art style," Cassandra responded, not even bothering to turn to face him. There were anime collectibles to be looked at, after all – a whole stand's worth of them. Who would have guessed the treasures you could find at a school event?

"Eh," Ryu shrugged in response, bending over to inspect a different figurine. He'd become so laid back these past few months – quite the turnabout from the troublemaker he'd been the entire time Cassandra had known him. "Guess everyone's got their tastes."

"And mine just so happen to be better than yours," Cassandra served up with a smile.

Ryu laughed aloud at this. "Can't argue with that!" He looked around a little bit more, then gave an exaggerated "hmmmm . . ."

"What are you up to?" Cassandra asked, hands on hips, a familiar routine. _There_ was the troublemaker.

"Oh, nothing," Ryu baldly lied. "I was just thinking . . ." he grasped a cat-ear headband with an apt catlike claw, the "gone on break" sign at the front counter apparently encouraging this brazen act of theft. "You'd look really cute in one of these headbands!"

Cassandra's eyes widened as she sensed what was coming next. "Ryu, don-" was all she managed to get out before he was on her, pressing gentle but insistent hands to her head and managing to get the accessory on despite her squirming.

"There now," he stepped back, his task accomplished if the grin on his face was anything to go by. "See? Told you you'd look cuter like that!"

"You're a jerk," Cassandra responded through the blush on her face.

"In fact," Ryu practically sang, "I think I'm gonna call you 'kitten' from now on!"

"You try it," Cassandra jabbed his chest with her finger. "And I'm gonna have to hurt you."

"In the good way?" Ryu switched tactics, lowering his voice to a more private . . . more _intimate_ . . . pitch.

"_Not _in the good way," Cassandra practically ripped the hairband from her head, the rising heat in her cheeks distracting her from the mild jolt of pain that came with her roughness.

"Ah, don't take it off yet," Ryu pouted. "Just lemme take one picture? _Please_?"

Cassandra huffed, placing the accursed object back on her head. "If this gets out to the rest of the school -" she began.

"Nah," Ryu assured her, bringing out his phone. "This one's for my _personal_ collection, don't worry."

She really wished she had a response to that besides a simmering sputter, but Cassandra did not. "Wh-wh-guh . . . wah?"

Ryu chuckled – practically giggled – as the picture developed. "Thanks a lot, kitten. It really means a lot to me!"

Cassandra groaned as she removed the hairband once more, placing it back in its proper place. She hoped she wasn't letting on how much she actually liked the way he said "kitten".

* * *

><p>Senior prom had been spectacular - for a given value of "senior prom", anyway.<p>

Both Cassandra and Ryu had failed to get dates – though admittedly, with the kinds of pickings high school had offered, they hadn't tried very hard – and so had agreed to go together, as friends. They'd skipped out on most of the prom itself, instead spending the night out on the town in tuxedo and gown, spreading the kind of harmless mayhem only teenagers can manage. What had surprised them, though, was the way almost the entirety of prom had followed them in their pursuit of a night to remember.

People had missed the troublemaker, Cassandra realized. She'd known she had.

Now, clothes wrinkled and hair messed beyond repair and surrounded by dozens of other students laughing about old times, the two friends stood upon a bridge overlooking the bay. It was a nice view, of course, but then any view would be nice on a night like this.

"I have to say, I admire the way you taunted that policeman," Ryu smirked. "I didn't know you had it in you, kitten."

Cassandra warmed at the familiar nickname. "I've always been like this," she grinned back to him. "Since before I met you, even."

"Really?" Ryu's voiced dripped with teasing doubt.

Two could play at this game of one-upmanship. "I just know how to keep from saying stuff out loud," she responded. "Unlike someone I could mention."

"So I just bring out the worst in you, then?"

Cassandra considered this. "More like the best, I'd say." She grinned as broadly as she could manage. "I know what they say about first impressions, but trust me, I'm not just a girl hiding under the slide."

"Heh," Ryu chuckled, and something in his eyes traveled a very long way off. "Those sure were the days."

A shrieking whistle and a cry of approval from their peers, and it became evident the fireworks show had started. Their school, unlike most in the nation, was slightly cushy – it could afford a fireworks display at Senior Prom, even if all the students ended up migrating someplace a bit more open-air to watch the proceedings. School parking lots were always too crowded, even when they were empty.

Fireworks had always fascinated Cassandra. So bright and colorful, and they made such a loud noise – yet give it three seconds after one was gone and you'd never know it was there. It was the ultimate expression in transience. Maybe like tonight.

Her eyes scooted more than anything over to her best friend, and then widened in surprise to find he was looking at her, too. Odd that he would be doing that when there were all these fireworks to watch. "Cass . . ." he said.

Cassandra blinked. This was a change from "kitten", and it wasn't one she was sure she liked. "What's up?"

He leaned in closer, and her heart rate was up, that's what. She always forgot, somehow, until those scary and exciting times when he'd lean in close and just look at her, ready to say something serious – Ryu had the most beautiful shade of blue eyes. Light, and airy. Almost purple, really. "I have to . . ." He stopped, and licked his lips.

This was much more interesting than the fireworks. "Have to wha -?" Cassandra began to ask.

She was interrupted by a pair of lips on her own – Ryu's lips. Warm.

He backed off as suddenly as he'd darted forward, looking away from her. "Sorry," he breathed, and what was worse, it sounded as though he meant it.

Cassandra stood there for several moments, hand slowly reaching up. She touched her own lips, tracing the feeling the edges of Ryu's had left behind. Then, slowly smiling, she reached to grasp Ryu's chin gently, turning it towards her once more.

Their lips met again, soft and reassuring.

"For what?" she asked, drawing back barely an inch and looking deep in those lilac eyes. "Not doing so sooner?"

The stunned look on his face was a treat to behold. The way that look suddenly turned into the biggest grin she'd ever seen was absolutely delicious. He laughed, pulling away to whoop jubilation to the sky.

Cassandra tried not to laugh, too, and the less said about her own attempts not to cheer with joy, the better. "You alright over there?" she giggled out.

"I've just had all my dreams come true, what do you think?" This was said with exaggerated offense, and Cassandra's resolve broke, the laughter welling up from deep within her belly. Ryu took the opportunity to stride back over, reaching up to cradle her face in his hands. "Come here, kitten," he murmured in a voice that sent a thrill down her spine.

They met one more time with much more certainty, fireworks sounding in their ears, and Cassandra practically purred into the kiss.

* * *

><p>"Now this," Ryu grinned, "Is an apartment I can get behind!"<p>

"The idea is to move _into_ it," Cassandra responded, smirking a familiar smirk.

"Picky, picky," Ryu lay his arm across her shoulder, and it felt just as good as the first time. "You should be more like me. I don't care where I'm going!" His face softened, and lilac orbs turned to take her in. "Just so long as I'm going there with you, kitten."

"If you think corny lines like that are going to work on me," Cassandra said, haughtily as she could manage. She paused, and then leaned in for a searing kiss – oh, those were her _favorites_. "You're absolutely right."

Ryu was blushing, and it was a nice change of pace. "You know. I try my best."

"Always making trouble," Cassandra smiled. "Whatever am I going to do with you?"

* * *

><p>A lot of people said that getting married at twenty-two was far too young. Those same people would say getting pregnant at twenty-three was probably not the best idea either.<p>

Cassandra had managed both just fine. And more importantly, she was happy. The new maternity leave laws had passed just in time for her third trimester, the bills were caught up on, the baby was developing along just fine if the ultrasound was any indication, and it looked like she and Ryu were going to be able to move out of this apartment and into that house they'd been looking at for the past few months.

Ah, and of course. Ryu himself. More romantic than ever, and she wasn't sure how he managed it.

The happiness wasn't restricted to just a general sort of direction life was heading in, either. Tonight, if Cassandra had anything to say about it, was going to be wonderful. A nice, homecooked Italian dinner (Ryu's favorite) lit by candlelight, followed by a nice evening enjoying movies and, apparently, the sound of rain pattering down the window. She didn't like that Ryu had to walk home in it, but she appreciated the rain for what it was, and she knew Ryu did too. Gentle, a sign of new life, quieting.

She was so happy.

There was a knock on the door, and she brightened even further. Ryu being home early would be wonderful; dinner might not be ready yet but there were certainly other ways to pass the time. It had been a while since they'd just chatted.

Her face fell when the holographic display that popped up before her showed not Ryu, but a stranger to her entirely. She was wearing a long brown trench coat and her hair looked absolutely soaked – understandable, as it was raining. Not much else could be told about her; this security system hadn't exactly been expensive, and beyond the bad quality everything was tinted blue. If Cassandra had to guess, however, she'd say this woman looked anxious about something.

Her heart fell into her stomach. This wasn't it, was it? That house call every policeman's wife dreaded visiting.

She pushed that thought from her mind with violent intent, shaking her head at the very idea. Getting herself scared for no reason wasn't going to help anybody. She turned to the secondary display – a warning that this was an unauthorized visitor- and acknowledged it, taking strides as best as she could towards the door. Cassandra didn't exactly have a difficult pregnancy – her worst craving was an occasional need for Blue Bunny vanilla ice cream – but walking with all this extra weight? It could be a chore.

She paused to open the drawer next to the entryway, but didn't immediately remove the object inside. Instead, she took in a breath, putting on her best smile. Likely she was worried over nothing at all. Reaching out a tentative hand – come on, get it in gear – she turned the knob and opened the door. "Hello," she said to the woman outside. "Can I help you with something?"

The woman was more blonde than anyone Cassandra had ever seen – she even outpaced Ryu's hair for most outstanding in its field. Golden, Cassandra might have said, and that was describing it when it was wet. Her face was also easy to describe – gentle curves that slanted into sudden sharp lines, framing a face that might either send off ships or ram their hulls – because it had frozen in place as soon as Cassandra spoke. Shock.

"Hello?" Cassandra asked again, peering at this strange woman. Her heart had crawled out of her stomach, but it had evidently taken some damage, beating off-rhythm the way it was.

The woman did not respond, still. Her eyes were . . . her eyes were lilac, not "lilac" like Ryu's but _actually_ lilac and they were so deep and murky she couldn't even see the person behind them.

The woman moved her arm, suddenly, but stopped short. It was only after several more seconds – uncertain, terrifying seconds – that she continued, slowly reaching out to touch the side of Cassandra's face.

Cassandra probably should have stopped her – she felt confused, afraid enough to – but she was also transfixed. Now that she'd looked at those eyes, Cassandra couldn't look away. She was drowning, drowning, drowning, felt like she was in some other world. Held in place by this woman's gaze. Like . . . something she hadn't realized she was looking for was there. Just beneath the cloudy surface.

The woman leaned in close, and for a shamefully exhilarating second Cassandra thought she was about to _kiss_ her. But she didn't – she stopped, perhaps an inch away, and looked deep into Cassandra's eyes. Searching for something, just like she was.

She found it, and seemed in awe of the revelation. Her eyes lit up, parting the clouds, and Cassandra could see her at last. "It's you," the girl breathed. "I finally found you."

"What?" Cassandra responded softly, and somewhere far away she tried to remind herself to breathe.

A smile flowed across the stranger's face, slow and sweet like honey, and its brilliance turned the pouring rain into brightest daytime. "I've been searching for so long," and Cassandra felt every ounce of the passion behind the words slam into her like a sunflower at 88 MPH.

"I don't understand," Cassandra's voice wavered, even as she tried to assert herself. "Who are you?"

The stranger laughed a laugh almost as brilliant as her smile. "It's me, Blake!" she said. "Yang. Your _partner._"

With almost perfect dramatic timing, a bolt of lightning split the sky, and thunder rocked the foundation of the apartment. The spell broken, Cassandra blinked, her thoughts moving back into something like a proper sequence. "I'm sorry," she said, stepping back out of Yang's reach. "You must have me mistaken for someone else."

Yang didn't seem particularly perturbed by this. "Nope," she said, "I admit I had my doubts before – I mean, you were white before, not black, and from what I've heard from the people I've interviewed you're sort of a prankster now, and faunus don't even _exist_ in this world . . ." she trailed off, took in a deep breath through her nose, and the voice that came out was choked by a sob. "But I _found_ you, Blake. I can see it in your eyes."

Those eyes twitched to the drawer next to Cassandra's hand. She almost reached into it - but no. Don't escalate the situation. "I don't know what you're talking about," she said, much more firmly.

The smile fell off of Yang's face, and for a second Cassandra felt strangely guilty. Yang picked it up quickly, but it still looked a little cracked as she stepped inside. Cassandra supposed she couldn't begrudge her a chance to get out of the rain. "C-come on, Blake." She laughed, and it was so empty Cassandra could mark where its edges were, fragile, breakable. "I appreciate a good prank as much as the next guy, but this is . . . this isn't the time, you know?"

"I _don't _know what you're talking about," Cassandra put her foot down. "You have mistaken me for someone else. I wish you the best of luck in finding them, but you need to leave. Right now."

The silence was suffocating. Scary. Chilling. Like being alone in the middle of the night.

"I . . ." Yang started, voice crumbling even in the midst of that single syllable. She blinked rapidly, and when she spoke again, it was with that same warm fervor as before. _Almost_ the same warm fervor as before, actually. "Hey, that's okay. You need some kind of reminder – that makes sense. I didn't remember until I was seven years old, and you know, it was actually a cookie shaped like a cat?" She laughed.

Cassandra opened her mouth to advance, tell this Yang that she should leave one last time . . . and bit her lip. "A reminder of what?" She asked, and instantly knew she should regret asking, and instantly knew she could not bring herself to.

Yang swallowed. "We were -" She paused. "We were born in another world, Blake. You and I, both of us. A place called Remnant, with monsters and magic and . . ." she trailed off, eyes clouding over once again. It was only a second, though, and soon she'd shaken her head, refocusing herself. "You and I were Huntresses. We hunted monsters, and we did it together. You, me, my little sis, heh, and the most stuck-up heiress you could possibly imagine."

It was worse than she'd thought. This woman wasn't just mistaken, remembering someone else with a very interesting life – she was disturbed in some way. "Is that so?" Cassandra said, hesitantly.

"You . . . don't believe me," Yang said, and it wasn't a question. "Well, that's okay, because I've got loads more to tell you! We could sit down together, and maybe -"

She should have made her leave, Cassandra would say to herself a thousand times over a thousand late nights, wondering what went wrong and knowing exactly what went wrong. The woman was clearly psychotic, or otherwise damaged – speaking of a past relationship like it had happened before they'd even been born, references to "this world" like there were others somewhere that they _both_ should know about. But she was afraid. Not of the woman, not of _Yang_, but of what she was saying. Afraid and, somewhere inside her soul, curious.

So instead, she compromised, between what she wanted to do and what she knew she should. "Yang," she interrupted softly. "I don't remember any of this. I really don't." She paused. "I'm sorry."

Yang kept smiling, but Cassandra saw her teeth clench. "You will! Trust me." She took another step forward. "I'll make sure of it."

"Don't take another step," Cassandra warned. She reached in to the drawer, but did not pull out what was inside. "I'll hear you out. But I'm not going to let you just come into my house uninvited."

Yang looked affronted by this, but she was such a good actor it was hard to tell. Cassandra didn't know how she could see the little signs, the pulling in of the lips, the slight raise of the eyebrows, because they were remarkably small errors in a detailed painting that almost looked photorealistic otherwise. "Okay," she said. "That's fine. Just . . . just keep an open mind, okay?"

Cassandra said nothing, only moved her hand out of the drawer once again.

Yang blew out a breath of air – Cassandra felt its heat, and realized how close she had gotten again. "We, uh, were partners." She started. "We went to school together, and missions too. You were . . ." she smacked her lips. "You were a faunus. A cat-person. Not like, a person who likes cats, but, kitty ears, you know?"

Cassandra tilted her head. "Okay," she said, not as a sign she believed it but as a sign she was, as she said, listening.

Yang looked shaken, now, and the acting wasn't helping. "You, uh, you used to be a member of a group called the White Fang. They were . . . they were good, once. Tried to help faunus out. But then they went bad and started hurting people. You decided you didn't like that."

"So what did I do?" Cassandra asked.

"You left," Yang said, and smiled again. "You came to Beacon. That's, uh, the school where we learned to fight monsters. And when you got there, well, it's kind of a long story but we became friends. All of us did. You and my awesome little sis Ruby, she's adorable . . ._was_ adorable, right, keep forgetting. Fifteen years, you think I'd be used to the idea!" Yang laughed, but nothing seemed all that funny. "Weiss, on the other hand . . . not so adorable. The Ice Queen. But she warmed up over time – to all of us. Then there was Jaune, and Pyrrha, and Ren, and Nora . . . and me. You and me were . . ." She looked Cassandra dead in the eye. "The best partners in hunting there ever were."

Cassandra stared back. Like pools of lavender milk, as silly as that sounded. Deep, deep pools.

"I always . . ." Yang said it so suddenly, she herself seemed surprised. "I always felt better having you around. Every time someone messed up, I felt like I had to be the one to fix things, to make everyone happy, and I guess maybe deep down I sort of thought maybe I could stop other people from hurting." She sniffled, once, casual, like it wasn't a precursor to the waterworks. "But whenever I was with you, I felt like there was someone who cared about . . . about me. Wanted to fix my problems, or, or at least . . ." She took in a shuddering breath. "Be my friend. Talk to me like I was someone besides just a person to get advice from."

The words numbed more and more as Yang spoke, and Cassandra could practically feel Yang's heart breaking. "I'm sorry," she said, and she didn't know why.

"You made me feel like someone cared," Yang repeated, and there was a hint of desperation to it. "And . . . I, I, I guess I sort of. Clung to that. And you were so elegant and careful and hidden, but when you felt something you were more passionate than I could ever be about anything and everything I learned just made me want to know more. . ." She coughed, covering up something. "I'm not good with words, but I fell in love with you, Blake."

That was a dangerous sentence. That sentence should have sent her running to the hallway, driven her instincts into overdrive, made her fight to survive, to protect her unborn child. But as it was, it was all she could manage to surreptitiously move her hand back into that drawer at her waist. "And did I feel the same way?" she asked, telling herself it was a stalling tactic and not more curiosity.

Yang finally looked away. "I never told you," she whispered. "I waited too long, and you fell for someone else. It might have been real, or a crush, but I wasn't . . . I wasn't going to tear you away from that. You deserve . . ." she gasped, then composed herself. This wasn't working, and she wasn't giving up. "You've been hurt more than anyone I know. You deserve to be happy with whoever you want, and I shouldn't interfere with that."

The irony didn't help the situation. "I . . ." Cassandra started.

"So I kept everything bottled up," Yang smiled, her voice going back to normal, and it was far too sudden of a shift to be natural, to be real. "Gave you advice on how to get the guy,and tried to keep my feelings on the down low. Told myself that I'd tell you first chance I got if and when I got another chance." She laughed. "Did not get that chance, lemme tell you. We went on a mission together, just you and I. Went to fight someone who wasn't a monster. Or, at least, wasn't born a monster. You know."

Yang clammed up, looked down to the floor, and Cassandra searched for the right words. They weren't there, so she tried something else. "What did the monster do, Yang?"

Yang looked back up to her, and she was still smiling. But she wasn't happy. "He killed us. Both of us."

Cassandra's heart wrenched. "I see."

Yang stared at her for a while. "I finally told you, right before we died. It sounds pretty twisted, but in some ways that made me so happy, just being able to say that. You said, you thought maybe we could work out. Well, heh, more like screamed it at me. I don't know if you were just saying that because you wanted me to stay alive or if you meant it, but." She didn't even trail off, just slowly closed her eyes. "I promised myself I would find you in the next life. I promised myself I would make you as happy as you deserved to be."

Cassandra closed her grip around the object, but did not move her hand. She was in danger, she kept telling herself, she shouldn't be listening to this schizophrenic nonsense. She needed something to protect herself with. She shouldn't be about to cry. "And so you did," she said, swallowing her own emotions.

Yang opened her eyes. Some spark in them had gone out. "You don't believe me. You don't remember."

Cassandra sighed, and let go of some part of herself as she did. "I'm sorry," she said for what felt like the millionth time, and nowhere near often enough.

Yang's mouth hung open just slightly, and her eyes wandered around the room, not really focusing on anything they saw. After a bit, she breathed in a quavering breath. "Well, that's still okay!" she said, plastering that smile back on, and every repair just made the damage more obvious. "B-because, I promise, I'm way more than just some nutty girl on your doorstep! I-I know, I know I probably seem really creepy right now but if you'll -"

"Stop," Cassandra cut her off. She wouldn't tolerate any more of this insanity. Not from either of them. "I heard you out, just like I promised. You have to leave now."

Yang didn't leave, not immediately. After a few seconds, she did the opposite, moving towards Cassandra. "Blake, please, I . . ."

Cassandra pulled the gun out of the drawer as she stepped back, pointing it at the intruder. "Not another step. It's built to handle recoil so I won't hurt the baby. I won't hesitate!"

It was a bluff, but that didn't stop the look of shock and betrayal from crossing over Yang's face. "Won't hurt the . . ." her eyes trailed down, then widened. "You're pregnant."

"I am," Cassandra responded. She softened her tone. "Even if I believed you, Yang, I have a husband. He's . . ." She couldn't help but smile, despite the situation. "He is the best thing that ever happened to me. The love of my life. I wouldn't give him up for anything – not even a world of monsters and magic and cat people." She bit her tongue, just for a moment, not to stop herself but to start herself, to say the most difficult part of what needed to be said. "Not for you, either."

Yang stared at Cassandra's very visible pregnancy for several moments before eventually bursting out into laughter – not an expression of joy, just a noise to counterpart the second bolt of lightning settling outside. It was maddening. It was madness. It went on for far too long before finally Yang was able to speak. "Oh, gosh, that's hilarious! I didn't even notice!" She laughed some more. "I was, I was so happy to see you that I didn't even notice! Oh, man, I am a _fucking idiot_!"

These last two words were spat in venomous anger, and somehow Cassandra knew she wasn't the intended target. But anger was bad. Anger could tip the situation in a direction it shouldn't go. "I understand you're frustrated," she said. "I do. But-"

"Okay, I totally get it," Yang clutched at the air like she grabbed at possibilities: without mercy or hesitation or much success. "There's someone else, that happens sometimes. I get it. But you don't have to give him up if you remember!" She smiled, again, even bigger than before, as she made the offer. "You can still have this life, but you can have that one, too. Best of both worlds. Get it? We don't have to be together, so don't . . . don't let that keep you from remembering everything, okay?"

This was the part that really made Cassandra hesitate. This woman was willing to give her up? Even past her delusions? Insane people didn't work like that, did they? "I _can't_ remember," she emphasized.

"Try," Yang's voice quavered. "Please."

Cassandra looked into Yang's eyes, and realized that perhaps depth wasn't always a good thing. Sometimes you just had farther to fall. "I _am_ trying." She shook her head. "It's not working, Yang."

Yang's expression faded like a firework. "Please." She stepped forward again. "_Please, _Blake."

"I warn you, I will shoot!" Cassandra took a step back, knowing she should instead stand her ground, but she didn't _want_ to shoot. Yang may have been insane, but she didn't seem evil, and she was obviously _hurting_. So badly.

She wanted to make the hurting stop for her.

"I've lost everything and everyone, Blake," Yang continued moving forward, trudging more than walking, arms limp at her side and pupils almost vibrating in their intensity. "Hunting, Beacon, friends and family . . . Ruby . . ." The corners of her mouth twitched upwards – even now she attempted to smile. "Don't make me lose you too. Okay? Please?"

She couldn't come in any closer. It wasn't a matter of good and evil, it was a matter of protecting herself, protecting the baby. No more bluffing. "Last warning," she pulled back the hammer.

Yang didn't move forward anymore, but she didn't move back either. "Please," she repeated, as if maybe all that needed to be done was _want_ it a little more. "I-I've been searching for you so, so long. I've had this, this compass in my head telling me which direction to go in, what step to take next, and all that's kept me going is knowing that _you_ were going to be at the end of it all." She bit her lip, and Cassandra saw her fall further. "I really do love you, you know?"

Cassandra tightened her fingers slightly, pulling back the trigger not quite far enough. "Go. Now."

Yang rushed forwards faster than Cassandra could react to, grasping her shoulders – insistent, but gentle. "Blake, come back to me!" she was almost screaming. "Please, I'm begging you, remember me! Remember the food fight? Remember hunting? Remember the White Fang, or that time with the laser pointer, or, or . . . what do I have to say? Tell me there's something, _anything_ I can do, just _don't leave me alone_!"

She had to pull the trigger now – the woman was unstable and clutching her shoulders, one wrong shake could destroy her entire world. "I'm sorry!" Cassandra screamed back, pressing the gun to the girl's chest.

Yang didn't move, and looking into her eyes as the tears started falling Cassandra thought she saw her hit the bottom. "Just one word. Just one word to let me know something somewhere remembers _something_. This world's . . . everything's so messed up and everyone feels like a worse monster than any of the Grimm back home, and I don't belong anywhere. I just . . . I knew why. I knew the only place I belonged with was with _you_." She sobbed, bringing Cassandra roughly closer to her, eyes only an inch away. "Please. Please. Please. _Please." _

The woman clutched tighter at her shoulders, and Cassandra knew not to hesitate any more. As Yang's fingers gripped into her blouse, into her shoulders, and the woman slowly started shaking, shaking _her_ the time for tolerance ceased. Setting her mouth in a grim line, she adjusted the position of the weapon, breathed out through her nose, and . . .

. . . and . . .

"I'm so _cold_, Blake."

. . . and Cassandra wrapped her arms around this poor creature, bringing her in close as she could, trying not to let on that she herself was crying, too. So stupid. Couldn't even blame this one on the hormones. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, Yang."

Yang' fingers scrambled for some purchase, fighting against the way her sobs shook her body. "Blake," her voice cracked. "I need you. Please remember me." They found their groove, and shaking arms enveloped Cassandra's body. "Please. Please."

"I'm sorry," Cassandra tried to hold her tight enough to stop the shaking.

Yang made a noise of some kind, burying her head deep in Cassandra's shoulder.

"What is . . ." came a voice from the door.

Yang drew away so fast it was like she'd removed herself from the world entirely, and Cassandra had to puzzle out precisely where _she_ was. "Ryu," she said at last to the figure at the door. Then, for lack of anything else to say, "You're home early."

Ryu didn't react to this, instead choosing to stare at Yang. Who could blame him – the girl was a soggy, wide-eyed, teary mess, and a stranger hugging his wife to boot. "What is going on here?" he asked, stepping inside slowly as he closed his umbrella. "Who are you?"

Yang took a few deep breaths before seeming to compose herself, doing her best to wipe the tears from her eyes. That didn't stop her shaking, though. "Uh, hey. My name's Yang. You must, uh . . . be the husband. Nice to meet you."

Ryu looked away at this point, looked to Cassandra. She, in turn, glanced over to Yang with sad eyes, then looked back and raised her eyebrows. _This girl is upset,_ she was trying to say. _I know it's strange, I know I'm crying, I'll explain later, but could we help her?_

Ryu looked back to Yang, waited a moment, and smiled that smile she'd fallen in love with. "It's nice to meet you, too," he said, setting his umbrella in the proper storage space. Even with it, he'd gotten soaked – it must have been pouring out there. "Hope you don't mind me saying, but you look like you've got quite a story to tell us."

Yang laughed. "You don't even know."

"Well," Cassandra hesitated before walking over to her husband. "Maybe we can sit down and discuss this whole thing." She wrapped his arm with both her own, needed something stable to hold onto. "Over dinner?"

"Dinner sounds great," Ryu enthused. "I am _starving_."

"It won't be ready for a long time yet," Cassandra patted his arm, patronizing as possible. "So we'll have plenty of time to talk beforehand, too."

"No, no," Yang said at last, sniffled, drew her arm across her face one more time. It came back down, and she was smiling again. The shaking had almost stopped, but her eyes were wide and darting everywhere. "Thanks anyway, but I've . . ." She suddenly walked forward, squeezing past the confused couple. "I've gotten into your business enough as it is."

Husband and wife turned to watch her go. "Yang, wait," Cassandra said, surprised by the hoarse quality of her own voice.

Yang did pause at the door, grasped its edge. "Have a great life, kitten," she choked out.

She left, and shut the door behind her.

Cassandra gaped for a moment before stepping forward. "How did she . . . ?" she rasped out.

Ryu stepped next to her, turned to look down to his wife. "So I'm not the only one who calls you 'kitten', huh?"

His tone was playful, teasing, but Cassandra had known him long enough to catch that undercurrent of fear. "I don't know how she knew to call me that," Cassandra said, trying not let some wild suspicion creep up her spine. She was failing. "I promise you, Ryu. I don't."

Ryu looked at her with those . . . beautiful blue eyes of his. For several seconds. "Alright," he said at last, smiling. "I believe you." He looked up at the door. "So what was _that_ all about?"

"You were right to call it quite the story," Cassandra laughed. "One for the history books, I'd say."

"You gonna be alright?" Ryu asked, reaching over to wipe some of her tears away.

"Yeah, I'll be fine - just give me a couple minutes." She sniffed. "I hope that girl ends up okay, too."

"Yeah," Ryu stared at the door for a while. Longer than most people would. "Take a break and then talk about it over dinner?" he suggested at long last.

"Your favorite," Cassandra responded with a nod.

"Italian?" he brightened, like her own personal sunshine. "I knew there was a reason I married you."

"Glad to know I'm good for something around here," Cassandra giggled, and then obliged his leaning over for a quick kiss.

His lips were so cold. It must have been the pouring rain. That's what she told herself it was, anyway.

* * *

><p>Yang stumbled against the bare brick of the nearby apartment building, barely feeling it scrape her skin.<p>

She tried to calm her breathing, and only found more agony for her troubles, her breath hot and ragged like the hole in her heart.

She had given up. An entire lifetime, _two_ of them, spent chasing after people, never stopping no matter what happened. Always smiling, because things would always get better someday – she'd make it happen if life didn't intend on it. She'd catch up to all of them someday - her mom, her friends, her sister, her Blake. And she'd given up.

But who could blame her, right? Ten and fifteen years of freezing cold, walking towards the fire on the horizon, every numb step forward shooting pain through her system. And then, just as she started to get close enough to feel it warm her, the fire just went out.

Fuck.

She couldn't stop shaking.

Yang looked down at the weapon in her hand – those two, Blake and her . . . husband. They'd been so confused – and no wonder – that they hadn't even noticed she'd grabbed the gun from Blake on her way out.

It was heavy. She thought Blake might have been bluffing, but it had been loaded the entire time.

She bit down on her lip until it bled, trying not to sob again.

In many ways, this was what Yang wanted. That had been the last thing she'd said, right? That Blake could be happy without her, if she could just forget about Yang and move on. Looks like she'd been completely right.

Yang laughed, laughed in the rain, laughed in the numbing cold, laughed even as her eyes couldn't focus on anything in particular. Her hand clutched the gun tighter, trying to stop the shakes that were settling into her bones. Blake was gone. _Gone_. She'd never see her again. It was sort of funny, in the cosmic sense.

Yang had already given up. Might as well make it official, right?

With as much effort as anything she'd ever done, Yang remembered everything she could. It all really boiled down to people smiling. Important people, like Ozpin and her mom and even guys like Cardin. Ruby and Weiss. They were all probably just as happy without her. Blake sure was. _Happier_.

She remembered them as she raised the gun, pointing it at her temple. And she smiled.

Maybe next time, she wouldn't remember anything either.

She pulled the trigger.


End file.
